I was seated on the aisle, in the second-to-last row of the plane. Turning around, I saw behind me the tell-tale tote bag with a strand of blue bulky snaking out the top. Upon further investigation, I found that one of the flight attendants was passing the time by knitting an afghan.

It was a pretty big afghan, a Christmas present for her daughter, which she told me she works on during odd moments in her day. All garter stitch, her first piece, and very nicely done. Good straight edges. She seemed to enjoy having another knitter pet and admire it. She asked about the lace stole, so I showed her the patterns and told her it's not nearly so complicated as it looks.

We chatted for a good ten minutes about knitting stuff and then the captain announced it was time for take-off. Oh boy! Off to Philadelphia!

* * * * *

Flash forward about an hour and a half. We're approaching Philadelphia and the plane is bucking and rearing like a bull at a Texas rodeo. Me, I would rather be sitting on the bull. Instead, I am clutching the tray table and waiting for the moment, surely imminent, when the plane will fall out of the sky.

(I see the funeral in breathtaking Cinemascope. My pulverized remains are displayed in an extremely small urn, over which is draped the Seneca sweater. It has miraculously survived the crash. "He never even got to wear it," everyone is saying. The organist launches into "Aloha O'e" in a vain attempt to muffle the sobs.)

Meanwhile, the four-year-old in the next seat continues to hum "Jesus Loves Me" and color Barney the wrong shade of purple.

That attendant should rent out her soothing services. Because I fly like you do--scared shitless.

Didn't we have the best time? Already I miss everyone, sitting here all sad and lonely at my laptop, gazing upon my two huge bags of fabulous fiber, aching to be spinning everything I bought, simultaneously.

My verification word is "phkei" as in "I thought his Elton John glittersuit was awfully phkei."

as i said before, knitters are amazingly generous, and flight attendants rock. i made aponcho on the way to oregon last summer, and they all oohed and ahhed over it, particularly when i walked off the last plane with it on. it's a great feeling, isn't it?

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